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| Waits Tom Foreign Affairs Potter's Field well you can buy me a drink and i'll tell you what i seen and i'll give you a bargain from the edge of a maniac's dream that buys a black widow spider with a riddle in his yarn that's clinging to the furrow of a blindman's brow i'll start talking from the brim of a thimble full of whiskey on a train through the bronx that will take you just as far as the empty of a bottle to the highway of a scar that stretched across the blacktop of my cheek like that and then ducks beneath the brim of a fugitive's hat and you'll learn why liquor makes a stool pigeon rat on every face that ever left his shadow down on saint marks place hell i'd double cross my mother if it was whiskey that they payed and so an early bird says nightsticks on the hit parade and he ain't got a prayer and his days are numbered and you'll track him down like a dog well it's a tough customer you're getting in this trade cause the nightstick's heart pumps lemonade well whiskey keeps a blindman talkin alright and i'm the only one who knows just where he stayed last night he was in a wreckin yard in a switchblade storm in a wheelbarrow with nothing but revenge to keep him warm and a half a million dollars in unmarked bills was the nightstick's blanket in a febuary chill and as the buzzard drove a crooked sky he was dealin high chicago in the mud and stackin' the deck against a dragnet's eye a shivering nightstick in a miserable heap with the siren for a lullaby singing him to sleep he was bleeding from a buttonhole torn by a slug fired from the barrel of a two dollar gun that scorched a blister on the grip of a punk by now is learnin what you have to pay to be a hero anyhow he dressed the hole in his gut with a hundred dollar bandage a king's ransom for a bedspread that don't amount to nuttin just cobweb strings on a busted ukulele and the nightstick leaned on a black shillelagh with the poison of a junkie's broken promise on his lip he staggered in the shadows screaming i ain't never been afraid and he shot out every street light on the promenade past the frozen ham and eggers at the penny arcade throwin out handfuls of a blood stained salary they were dead in their tracks at the shootin gallery and they fired off a twenty one gun salute and from the corner of his eye he caught the alabaster orbs and from a dime a dance hall girl and stuffed a thousand dollar bill in her blouse and caught the cruel and unusual punishment of her smile and the nightstick winked beneath a rainsoaked brim ain't no one seen hide nor hair of him see no one but a spade on rikers island and me and so if you're mad enough to listen to a full of whiskey blindman then you're mad enough to look beyond where bloodhounds dare to go so if you want to know just where the nightstick's hidin out you be down at the ferry landin oh let's say bout half past a nightmare when it's twisted on a clock you tell 'em nickels sentcha whiskey always makes him talk and you ask for captain charon with the mud on his kicks he's the skipper of the deadline steamer and she sails from the bronx across the river styx and a riddle's just a ticket for a dreamer cause when the weathervane's sleepin and the moon turns his back you crawl on your belly long the railroad tracks and cross your heart and hope to die and stick a needle in your eye cause he'd cut my bleedin heart out if he found out that i squealed cause you see a scarecrow's just a hoodlum who marked the cards that he dealed and pulled a gypsy switch out on the edge of potter's field |
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